


Memories of fading lights

by rip1009



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Nicolas is cursed with the gift of empathy, blood and suffering, love between men, love between vampires, mentions of trauma, these boys feel so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rip1009/pseuds/rip1009
Summary: Daniel asks Armand a question he was not ready to address.Or what happens when your lover and fledgling is smart and puts two and two together.Also stay tuned for a teaser in the vein of Marvel like teasers.( written for @vcsecretgifts and especially for @eliestela)
Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy, Armand/Nicolas de Lenfent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Memories of fading lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eliestela](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=eliestela).



> This story was written for the [vcsecretgifts](https://vcsecretgifts.tumblr.com/) 2020 Christmas exchange and is gifted to [eliestela](https://eliestela.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Hope you like it :)

“Did you love him?”

Armand studied Daniel, a mixture of detachment and curiosity. It was not an unexpected question after everything that had transpired in the past years, post Lestat’s resurrection, books being shoved in the arms of hungry mortals and a genocide that hit their world.

“Who?” Armand entered the game. Something told him Daniel was hitting a precise angle and he was not quite ready to give into more revelations about the past. The past was just the past, right? Doomed to be left in the crevices of old memories and tempted not to be relived.

“Nicolas” Daniel replied, his voice calm as he lifted his eyes from the magazine he was reading, going through the gossip columns and entertainment section half distraught, half incredulous.

There it was. The ghost that kept on creeping. He could lie, he could offer a half lie wrapped in half truth and finish the blooming interrogatory.

“Not exactly love, not exactly hate. Nicolas was a damned creature we all helped to be brought into this world. Truth be told, I should have killed him when I first had the chance” Armand attempted something, ready to change the subject.

“Why didn’t you? You had the chance, the motive and endless possibilities” Daniel retorted, raising his eyes from the glossy pages to meet his maker.

“Because…” Armand stopped himself from continuing, memories coming forth in a rush “…because I thought I could help him and in a way we all of us, back then, became his makers, his friends, his lovers, his brothers and sisters. He wasn’t supposed to become what he became and what he became was more than any of us could handle”

_“My Lord, Nicolas has escaped” Felix presented himself before Armand as the Coven Master was ready for the night inspection of their theater abode. Armand studied Felix’ concerned features, anger and frustration creeping in._

_“How?” the word was glacial, ready to pierce flesh as it was addressed. He knew. Although young in blood and driven mad by his powers, Nicolas had been made of old, strong blood. He would have ventured to say the violinist had been made with love but even if Lestat nurtured love for that fool of a musician, desperation, fear, and resignation had been the main godmothers of his unholy birth. And Nicolas was strong. And Nicolas was not exactly getting the grip on what he could do and the extent of his powers and there was something else more sinister than the madness which loomed in the dark eyes of the passionate musician. Something that made Armand fear he would have to cut short his life._

_“He came to me and …” Felix stumbled between choosing the right words “…he made feel fear. Intense. I could not move to stop him. He stepped outside. He said he had to light a candle” Felix kept his eyes down as if waiting for the punishment for his mistake._

_“Still a believer our musician. Between madness, faith and passion lies damnation. I will deal with you after I bring back our lost soul” Armand spoke as he fixed his attire “stay here” the words ran deep as a blade as Armand walked past Felix and made his way to the church, he knew Nicolas visited. Before the man became a vampire, Armand had followed where the mortal musician ended. And there was something. Something the blood told, the memories that he couldn’t hide as quickly and as efficiently. Lestat left him a treasure and a curse. The curse of a former lover no one could fix. From love had grown the darkness anger, loneliness and bitterness. Armand cursed the night he had accepted to be wannabe maker to the musician but deep down inside, he knew he could not have been able to say no. For what laid in Nicolas, was a foundation he also helped to be put together._

_The church choir become faint and Armand sensed the young immortal inside the holy walls. He prayed to whomever would listen that Nicolas had not become too lost as to go and hunt in full sight inside a church. There was so much he could do and this kind of transgression was punished by death in the old days. Granted, if Armand made a short calculus of all of Nicolas transgression, he himself should had been punished for being too lenient of the violinist._

_He stepped inside the church and noticed Nicolas sitting in a corner. He could be civilized although the anger in his eyes was anything but civilized. The man did nothing to hide what he felt. If he were hurt, the world would feel his pain._

_Armand came closer and took a seat next to Nicolas._

_“You could have told us you wanted to go to church although I don’t see why you insist on such a nuisance” Armand spoke in hush, turning to see if Nicolas had the decency to return the gaze._

_“I had to light a candle and I didn’t feel like reporting for every step I make” Nicolas retorted, knowing fully well he was pushing buttons._

_Swiftly, Armand’s hand sprung and grabbed the younger vampire’s chin, turning his face to meet him “You tell me every step you make and intend to make, and you know fully well why”_

_Nicolas grinned, enjoying the manhandling “Relax, my lord. I came here to find peace not to seek chaos” it seemed it was one of those night, no one truly knew which path Nicolas walked. Armand looked down and noticed a candle in Nicolas’ hands. Gods be damned, the fool wasn’t intending on setting himself on fire._

_“What is with the candle, Nicolas?” Armand inquired no letting go of the violinist._

_“I made a promise. Each year, on the night she died, I would pray for my mother’s soul and light a candle” Nicolas answered as calmly as no one would venture to think the musician capable these days “Now, if you do not mind. I would like to pray” Nicolas forced his jaw free and bowed his head as he began muttering in perfect Latin the prayer._

_Armand stood and watched, cursing again and again Lestat and himself. He tried to control himself as he knew Nicolas had a talent on clinging to emotions. As if he had not had a traumatic birth in the blood, he had a curse of feeling and warping emotions. The likes that had been given the blood rarely endured, hunted, and killed or driven mad by their powers and walking themselves on the steps of the pyre. Armand wondered horrified which fate awaited the violinist. He refused to accept that he had grown fond of this man and more. Bound together by the broken shards of their hearts Lestat had left in his wake. Armand forced his mind and emotions elsewhere, feeling the faint tentacles of Nicolas’ emotions closing in. He wasn’t even controlling this curse, it controlled him, and the fool wasn’t even trying._

_“Are you quite done?” Armand asked as Nicolas finally stopped reciting the prayer and stood up, marching quietly to where the other candles were light. Armand rose and followed hoping this would be one simple night he just had to fetch back Nicolas to the theater in the process make sure he feed._

_“Not yet” Nicolas replied as he lights the candle and said something in Italian. Armand tried to recognize the dialect. Of course. From what he had gathered, the dapper son had family blood stretching all the way to Naples. The father had hoped a good marriage would elevate his status, what he got was a bastard born wife and some money to help him finance his business. Nicolas shared more with his mother’s family than with his father._

_“Till the day you are reborn. Till my sins are atoned” Nicolas kept murmuring a vow and Armand remembered seeing flashes of memories, the blood being the conduit during their interludes. Nicolas mother had died in childbirth, too weak, too ill to be strong for such a feat, young Nicolas had watched as his mother gave her final breath and that very night had prayed to God, to Satan, to whomever would listen and vowed his soul in exchange of the life of his mother. Till this day, Nicolas saw himself damned. Yet he prayed for the salvation of his mother’s soul._

_Coming closer, Armand put his hand on Nicolas shoulder urging him to walk with him outside “I can not write or play tonight, Armand. Allow me one night, free of music, walk with me around this town, help me quench this pain. I do not know what else I can do to shut it….” Nicolas closed his eyes, taking a breath. Still, so very young and clinging to mortal habits. The dead did not seek breath and yet the child used the trick to calm his minds and emotions._

_“You have to learn to control what you feel, Nicolas. This thing inside you, if you do not control it, it will break you. I ca….” Armand stopped himself, horrified by what was about to slip from his lips._

_Nicolas turned and gently grip the Coven Master’s hand “I know” he uttered, bringing the knuckles to his own lips._

Armand let the memories close as he resumed his watch over his fledgling.

“Love comes in different shapes, ways and actions. Nicolas was mine more than he was Lestat’s. He might have been born of Lestat’s blood, but I raised him, and I failed him. And I am not ready to speak about him no matter how much non-sense the blonde fool has put in his book. He knows nothing. Lies I put together and I feed Eleni to write back. If Lestat knew half of the truth, he would be ….not exactly horrified but not happy either” Armand mused as he picked up The London Times and went through the articles.

Putting his fingers on the paper, Daniel smiled “I realized that but I had a feeling there was more than Lestat was lead to believe. My question is… is he truly dead, Nicolas?” Daniel asked unapologetically.

“I don’t know” Armand replied meeting his lover’s gaze.

Daniel smiled back as if he had won a big argument “Thought as much. He might have survived the Purge”.

“Knowing Nicolas, everything is possible” Armand shuddered at the thought.

**_Years later…_ **

Armand stepped outside the crowded pub, yearning to feel the night’s chill on his heated skin. A small drink here and there always helped. Suddenly, he froze as he felt an old familiar sensation gripping his emotions. It felt controlled not chaotic. Scanning the area, Armand noticed a figure in the crowd. Black Armani suit, fresh cut styled hair and a pair of dark eyes meeting him from across the street. 


End file.
